


Reassemble

by thebearking



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Injury Recovery, Near Death Experiences, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 14:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14113938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: Funny how it takes a homunculus to get one of you to make a move.





	Reassemble

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh i watched all of fmab last week and i wanna rewatch it all over again. it was so good. anyway here's a lil something i wrote for jean. i'll probably publish something for roy or ed next cuz i love them both. i love them all ;___; fem reader here. enjoy!

_ “So this must be the sweetheart Havoc was talking about. Dating around, hoping to forget about how much you mean to him…Poor thing, he was so enamored with you. Pity you’ll never get to hear that from him yourself.” _

Lust’s words seemed to reverberate in your skull, making your whole world tremble. Normally, you wouldn’t have taken an enemy’s word so seriously, but something about the wicked glee in the homunculus’s eyes…the way Jean had always watched over you while working together…It didn’t seem so implausible.

You blinked and found yourself back in the infirmary, staring into space while Roy, Riza, and Jean spoke. It looked like Roy was about to leave, and sure enough, the colonel gave you a nod before exiting the room. Riza exited just behind him, leaving you alone with a bedridden Jean.

Jean wasn’t looking at you. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding your gaze. It was bad enough knowing he was hurting inside from the loss of his legs. But for him not to want to talk to you about it or look for comfort from you, one of his closest friends…It hurt. It really did. Especially now that you knew how little Jean already thought of himself, believing it was impossible you’d be interested in him. That was unacceptable, especially when you cared for him just as deeply.

You decided there was no point in beating around the bush. Holding on to your knees with shaky hands, you delved right into the subject that had kept you awake at night ever since that fateful day. “Jean, before Roy came in and killed her…that homunculus told me and Riza something,” you began.

“That so?” Jean grumbled, leaning back in his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

You frowned. “She told me—she said that you’re enamored with me.” You saw his hands clench into fists. “That you date around so much just to—”

“That so?” he snapped, whipping around to look at you with fiery eyes. “And you believe her? Think I’m some lovesick puppy who just follows you around?”

Your eyes grew hot with tears. “Jean…”

He was looking out the window now, his jaw taut with frustration.

You sighed, leaning forward in your chair at his bedside. “Jean, please look at me.”

Nothing. You thought you saw his eye glistening.

“Jean. I love you back.”

His mouth fell open, and then, finally, he looked at you, his gray eyes wide with disbelief. You fixed him with the purest look of honesty you could muster, reaching over to take his hand in both of your own. “You…”

“You think I don’t think about you all the time? Watching your back at every turn, just to make sure you never got hurt?” you vented, holding his gaze even as tears slid down your cheeks. You gritted your teeth, bowing your head with shame. “And I let you get hurt…I should’ve gone with you.  _ I should’ve been there—” _

“Don’t!” Jean said, his other hand clasping yours. “Don’t blame yourself for all this. It’s not your fault.”

Here he was, still encouraging you when you were down. That was what you admired so much about him; tied in with his wry humor and infectious smile was that confidence, that light that would never go out. You knew this setback was going to take a toll on him, but you were determined to keep that light aflame. You lifted your head, meeting his eyes. “Guess I’ll have the next several years to make up for it then, huh?”

Jean’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I mean I’m not leaving your side, Jean,” you reiterated, fixing him with a burning look of determination. He seemed almost frightened under your stare. “I’m with you, Havoc, every step of the way. No matter where this road leads…I’m with you.”

Jean was silent, watching you in wonder. There were tears beading at the corners of his eyes. After a moment, he reached out to encircle you with his arms, and you hugged him back, nearly falling out of your chair to do so. Never had you felt so secure.

When you finally pulled back, you couldn’t help but laugh a little, remembering what you’d once heard the colonel gruel Jean about.

Jean frowned. “What is it?”

“All this time I thought you just liked women with a nice rack…Is that all I am to you?”

“Huh?! No, not at all!” Jean stammered, shaking his head wildly. “You’re much more than that, it’s just a plus, really, I don’t even look at yours anymore, it’s all behind me, I promise—”

You cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. And then you replaced your finger with your own lips, kissing him the way you’d wanted to for so long, softly, just enough to get a feel for him. Too soon, you pulled away to gauge his reaction. He seemed dazed, lips parted. “You’ll just have to show me how much more I mean to you, then,” you murmured coyly, shrugging off your uniform jacket.

In no time at all, you were on his bed, straddling his hips, kissing him fervently but being careful not to put pressure on his lower back. His hands were everywhere at once, roaming over your back, tugging at your shirt, going  _ under _ your shirt, up your bare spine, your shoulder blades, holding you firmly against him. You had your hands in his hair, then on his neck, then his chest, his stomach, pushing his covers aside to—

“Wait.” He cut off the kiss, bowing his head, not looking at you again. “Sweetheart, I—I don’t even know how—if I can still—”

“I don’t care,” you murmured, kissing his chin. “I just want you. Everything you can give me, whatever you want to give me—” You kissed his lips, then his throat, his cheek. “I’ll take it. And I’ll give you all of me, too.”

Jean looked breathless, his chest heaving. And his breathing only quickened when you began unbuttoning your shirt. “Well,” he said, squeezing your thighs appreciatively, smirking up at you like you’d always wanted him too, “we’ll just have to get a little experimental then, won’t we?”

You couldn’t agree more.


End file.
